Getting up, I pad across the floor, heading toward Sadie's room. I am not supposed to enter the maids quarters, but I will never be able to fall back to sleep if I can't talk this out. I have kept my dreams from her for far too long. In our short time together she has become my closest friend. If anyone can help me sort through these confusing, and nearly always conflicting, emotions it is her.
Making my way quietly to her door, I pull it open and slip inside. Shutting the it behind me, I call out her name. The side table next to the door is supposed to hold a candle and matches, but it's empty. Alarmed, I rush into her room, banging into several pieces of furniture on my way. My suspicions are confirmed when I find her bed empty. What is going on? She should be here! If she is caught outside this room after dark she will be in world of trouble. I sit on her bed, debating my next move. She could be hurt or in trouble, but if she has a good reason to be out, alerting anyone to her absence would make things so much worse.
The doorknob turns, and I hold my breath, willing it to be her. The door creaks open, and the faint light from a small candle slips into the room with Sadie right behind it. Exhaling loudly, I run to her, smacking her sharply across the cheek.
"Oh my goodness!" I cry. "I am so sorry, I had no idea I was going to do that!"
"Ouch," she grimaces. "What the heck are you doing in here?"
"I woke up from a dream and wanted to come talk about it. Where were you? Don't you know how dangerous it is for you to be out this late?"
"Of course I do! I'm not an idiot."
"You are a fool. Why would you even risk it?"
"I was feeling sick. I needed to use the restroom."
"Why didn't you just use mine?"
"I didn't want to wake you, I knew you would worry."
"I would rather you wake me up than get caught breaking curfew. How are you feeling now?"
"I'm better, thank you," she says, sitting next to me on the bed. "It was probably all of that rich food. Did you know they even serve the maids that stuff? I was fine until I laid down, but then everything wanted to come back up."
"Is that your only symptom?" I ask, feeling her head with the back of my hand.
"Yes. Just the nausea."
"It probably was the food then, it was much richer than anything we have in Veracity. I'll leave you alone to try and get some sleep, but promise me that if you start feeling poorly again you will use my restroom and not leave the suite."
"Yes mother," she laughs.
"I'm serious! It is against the rules for you to be wandering around the Big House this time of night."
"Okay! I promise," she laughs again.
Frustrated with Sadie's carelessness, and concerned over her illness, I spend the rest of the night tossing and turning. The morning comes much sooner than I would like, and Sadie comes in, pale and tired looking to help me dress. She seems slightly offended when I tell her she looks awful, but accepts my orders to rest for the day.
Eager to get done and get home, I met with the others in the library to interview the girls. It isn't a terribly long process, as we had them narrowed down pretty well. When the final girls are chosen, I am surprised by how excited they are. I didn't realize it was considered such a great honor to be picked. There will be feasts for days after we leave, and lavish gifts given to each girl before they make the trip to Veracity. I would have been frightened at the thought of the unknown, but they all seem overjoyed to be leaving.
As we are preparing to leave the empty library, a handsome young man with dark brown hair and almond eyes walks into the room dressed head to toe in gold. Lucas! This is my brother!
"Travis, it's good to see you," he says. "You don't mind if I have some time alone with my sister?"
"Of course not Lucas," Travis says. "It's good to see you, as well. I was under the impression that we would miss you this trip."
"I was handling some business, but when I heard my baby sister was back in Axiom, I rushed back to see her."
Lucas offers me his arm and I take it, my hand shaking the tiniest bit in nervousness, or excitement perhaps. With an affectionate smile, he leads me through a side door out into the garden. While not an extravagant garden like Veracity, it is very pretty with bushes of white roses and flowering trees.
"How have you been Kat?" he asks.
"I'm doing okay. I was confused and disoriented at first of course, but I am settling in."
"Did you recognize me?"
"I recognized myself in you, and knew who you were by your clothes."
"But no real recollection?"
"No, I am sorry. You are a stranger to me."
"That's a shame," he says, shaking his head. "We were so close growing up, inseparable really. It was trendy at that time to raise your own children, and we bypassed the nursery completely. We were not allowed to play with other children, and our parents were very busy, so most of the time it was just us and the nanny."
"I long for the memories I have lost," I say, searching his face. "I was hoping seeing you, and Axiom as a whole, would bring something back but it hasn't."
"It's no secret that I hope your memory never returns. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy, much less my sweet sister. Although I do admit it hurts to know what has been lost."
"Lucas, can you tell me about our parents?"
"There will be plenty of time for that," he says, dismissively. "Right now I need to talk to you about your new station."
"Oh," I say disappointed. "Of course."
"You've always been such a good girl," he says patting my hand. "As you know Kat, I have grand designs for the future of our family. Father told me as a young child that he meant for us to rule the Seven Cities, and it is my wish to fulfill his dream."
"To rule? Like a King? Lucas, it was dangerous enough to set ourselves apart from the others. I can't imagine how bad it will be to declare ourselves as royalty!"
"Not dangerous at all," he smiles. "No other city is in a position to stop me. I won't do it all at once though. By the time I am fully in charge, they will just be realizing I am up to something. "
"That sounds like the Seven."
"Who better to emulate?"
"But why me? Why not just have you be King and let me stay like everyone else?"
"Because you are not like everyone else. You are my sister. We share the same blood, and if I am to be lifted on high, you must be there with me."
"I don't want to rule."
"You won't have to. I will do that. I just want you and Travis to be taken care of, treated the way you deserve to be treated. You two are special, don't let anyone tell you any different."
He leaves me then, with nothing more than a peck on the cheek. I have played out meeting him in my head for months, and this was nothing like I had hoped it would be. He spoke of affection for me but his manner was removed, cold even. I asked for a connection to our past, but all he could do was stare wild eyed into the future. My heart is telling me to cling to him, to find a way to become closer to my family, but my head is telling me to run, far and fast.
22 – Air
KATHERINE
I would like to say our return to Veracity was pleasant, but as expected, we are met with stares and whispers. My clever brother took the liberty of packing up all of our "unsuitable" clothing while we were conducting interviews, and shipped them back home, ensuring that we would have nothing but gold laden outfits to arrive in.
Thankfully the carriage shielded us from the eyes of the regular citizens, but there was no way to hide from the people living and working in the Big House. Travis and I walk quickly to our rooms, unable to answer the questioning looks from those passing us in the hallway. Lucas is going to have a rude awakening if he thinks dressing us up this way will go over well. Already there is confusion and mistrust in the air.
A few door down from my suite, I have to stop and lean against the wall, closing my eyes against a rush of unease. Even this far away I can already hear Alana shouting. She quiets when I
enter, but her seething rage is too great for her to hide, and for once I don't blame her. What on earth is all of this?
An entire new wardrobe is laid out on every available surface. Gowns made of delicate gold fabric are draped on the back of chairs, across sofas, and spread out on the bed. Green shoes, belts, and pins litter the floor. Another wardrobe worth of gowns have been drug out from the dressing room, as Maggie tries to make space. Alana is doing her best to hold in her anger, but she is shaking with it as she storms into the bathroom. It must be hard for her to see all of this; the life she feels cheated of displayed so boldly in front of her. She hated me enough when I was just a lady, I can't imagine how she feels now that I might be something more.
"Maggie! Where did all of this come from?" I ask.
"Your brother dear. He had it brought over yesterday."
"I thought he was just sending my old clothing back. How long was he planning this? It would have taken forever to make this many new gowns."
"I heard that your beau has just as many new outfits strewn about his room as well."
"Oh Maggie, what am I going to do? I can't wear these clothes. I will look pompous. The people will hate me."
"I suppose you will have to take that up with the General. All I know is that I have been told to find room for all of this stuff. It hasn't been easy. I hate to throw out any of your old things; I made more than a few of them myself."
"This is going to be a disaster," I cry.
"Well there is nothing we can do about it now. Go ahead and go get that road dust off you while I try to organize this mess."
I have no desire to enter that bathroom, but etiquette demands I bathe and dress before dinner. Wading through the sea of clothes, I give Maggie a quick hug, and step into the bathroom; afraid of what manifestation Alana's anger will take. I am tempted to call Sadie but she looked so unwell when we arrived that I sent her to bed. I knew I should have dismissed Alana before I left.
When I walk in she just glares at me before returning to her work. I slowly undo the pin and let my gown fall to the floor. Ignoring me, she fills the tub without even banging around like usual. Somehow, her fierce quietness is ten times worse than her yelling. Screaming and name-calling I can handle, I've done that before; this silence is frighteningly unfamiliar.
I step in the tub, a thick layer of anxiety rolling over me as I slip into the water. The strong sent of jasmine saturates the air as I lay my head back on the side of the tub. Alana moves around the room in my peripheral vision. I ache to turn my head and keep an eye on her but I worry about offending her. Should I say something? Should I reopen our discussion about her leaving my service? Should I ask her if she is okay? Tell her I heard her screaming before I walked into the room?
"Alana, I want you to know that I never asked for any of this. No one ever cared how I felt or asked me for my opinion. I know you feel like I cheated you, but I swear I didn't intend for any of this to happen."
"Poor little princess," she sneers. "Forced into a perfect life. Yeah I feel real sorry for you."
"I am not asking for your pity. I am trying to make things better between us."
"There is nothing between us!" she screams. "You are royalty, and I am a servant, and nothing is going to change that!"
She grabs me by my hair and pushes my head under the water. I am able to pull myself out just long enough to scream, taking in a mouthful of water before my head is slammed back under. Struggling to free myself, I fight her grip, but I can't find any leverage to force my way out. My feet slip against the bottom of the tub, as I desperately try to find some traction to push myself up again. I try going further under, hoping her grip will loosen, but she has wrapped her fingers in my hair, using her weight to keep me under. I claw at her hands with my fingernails, ripping away skin. Her blood flows into the water but she just holds me down harder. Panic sets in. Only a few seconds have passed, and already my lungs are burning. I can feel my chest contracting, trying to force me to take in air. My head starts to spin and I feel myself slipping away.
Realizing I can't fight her, I go limp, hoping she will think she has won. Her strong hands slack just a fraction, but it's too late. The darkness is pulling against me as I start to lose consciousness. A series of faces flash through my mind as I go under: Jack, Travis, Lucas . . . Grayson.
She leans over the tub grinning at me through the water. She knows I am dying. With my last few seconds of life, I shoot my hand up and grab her hair, yanking her down toward me. She pulls back some, but not enough to clear the tub. Her face smashes against the porcelain side, a river of blood pouring from her nose. And then I'm gone. The darkness wraps around me and pulls me under.
I see my mother's face in the black. Her cool hand feels soft against my burning flesh as she caresses my cheek. I try to reach for her, but my arms are weighted and refuse to move. She slips away from me, pulled further and further into the darkness.
Somewhere miles away, I hear a muffled crash. Alana's hands are ripped away and I am hauled from the water. Lying naked on the cold tile floor, I struggle to catch my breath, the air clawing its way in with painful force. I don't have the strength to move, so I just lie there watching Alana's blood drip down the side of the tub. A blanket is thrown around me, and an angry shriek rips through the air, fading away as Alana is dragged from the room.
I rest my face against the tile and let the tears fall. Adrenaline courses through my body and I begin to shake. My tears turn into heaving sobs, as horrified shouts and gasps of disbelief fill the room around me.
Then Grayson is there, cradling me against his body as I cry. He pushes my wet hair from my face and holds me tight against him. I can feel the erratic rise and fall of his chest as we cry together.
"You were so still," he says. "I thought you were dead. Maggie heard you cry out, but the door was locked. She ran out into the hall screaming, and I was the first person she found. I had to break through the door."
"It was you," I say. "Of course it was you, it has always been you."
"I can't do this anymore," he says, gritting his teeth. "I don't care what happens, they can't keep me away from . . ."
His words fade away as I black out.
GRAYSON
Alana's wild, red hair is a mass of tangled curls, her clothes and face grimy from her night in confinement. She glares at me from across the table, the space between us thick with malice.
"Do you admit to trying to kill Katherine?"
"Yes."
"Why?" I demand.
"I hate her."
"You know the punishments for assault and murder. Why would you do such a thing when you know there is no way for you to deny it?"
"She took my life, so I deserve to take hers. I wanted to see his face when he saw her lifeless eyes. I wanted him to taste death when he kissed her lips. I hate them both, and my hate is stronger than any love I have for myself."
"You were willing to die?"
"Without question."
"You have been honest, so you have the choice of execution or taking your own life, although if it were up to me, you wouldn't have that honor. I would rip you apart with my bare hands if I could."
"Then you are no better than I am."
"The fact that you are still breathing proves we are nothing alike."
"It just proves you are weak. You are all too weak for this world," she says.
"Make your choice," I demand, leaning forward.
"I'm not letting you people take anything else from me. I will die with dignity."
We walk in a silent line to the northeast corner of the wall. This section was built on a natural cliff face overlooking the roaring river below. The river is a fundamental part of our lives, providing water, food, and the means to wash the evils in our city clean. Narrow steps are carved into the wall allowing us access to the top. Even in their earliest days, the Seven planned for the death of its people.
The smell of water and wildflowers drift through the air as Alana slowl
y makes her way up the steps. As she climbs, her hair and the thin material of her gown flow around her in the wind. She faces her death head on, her expression one of grim determination. Although able to measure the length of her life in footsteps, she seems strangely calm.
Katherine shouldn't be here, but she insisted. She stands with Travis, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. My father stands at the base of the stairs, his arms crossed and shoulders squared. He is not enjoying this, more proof that deep down he isn't as hard a man as he pretends to be.
Amber isn't in the small crowd, too overcome with grief to bear witness to her cousin's death. I imagine her grief is tinged with guilt, considering this was, at least in part, her doing. She made promises she couldn't keep, and out of jealousy and spite she brought Alana here, setting her loose on Kat.
"Last words?" my father grunts.
"Freedom," she says. "Over that ledge is the only freedom a girl like me will ever have. Free from pain. Free from hate," she looks at Kat, "This is the only real choice I have ever made for myself."
She looks at us, pausing for a few seconds on each face. Turning, she opens her arms wide as if embracing the sky. Taking a deep breath, she steps off the wall, plunging into the rocky river below.
23 – Loss
For several weeks, life is quite at the Big House, everyone needing a little time to process Alana's death. Amber still mourns her, and surprisingly the General has been kind, if not gentle, to his guilt torn wife.
The two of them came to me not long after the execution, the General stern as always, and Amber a mess of tears. They sat together in my sitting room, Amber's wrist secured against the General's, the slender band of truth nestled between them.
"Did you know Alana planned to hurt Katherine?" he demanded.
"No," she wailed. "I knew she would be trouble, but I never thought she would be awful enough to actually hurt her. I'm so sorry!"
Veracity (The Seven Cities Book 1) Page 18